The Heart of a Duke

by Victoria Morgan

She hesitated and then, flushing a bright pink, she murmured. “It’s something Emily bought.”

  “Can I see it?” His hand shot up. “Do not answer that. Not yet.” His eyes met hers and slowly, almost as if he waited for her to protest, he lifted a strand of her hair and watched it curl around his finger.

  “You have beautiful hair. All these enticing curls with a life of their own. I have been dying to take it down and see it thus, ever since that day in the library. I thought of locking your father, Emily, Brett, Burke, and Petie in a closet, and stealing you away.”

  She snorted at the ridiculous notion, masking her nerves. She was not prepared for Daniel’s heat, or the warmth seeping through her limbs as he continued in that husky voice.

  “You do not believe me? I am serious.”

  “It might be crowded.”

  “I believe they would fit, provided I secure the good Mr. Tanner in his own closet. With them locked away, I would pull out each pin, run my fingers through every curl.” He drew the strand straight, released it, and watched in fascination as it sprang back into a tight curl. His voice dropped to a growl that had gooseflesh rising across her body.

  “Let me love you, Julia. I want to touch you as I have longed to do. We are engaged now, Julia, and as your betrothed, I would like to pleasure my fiancée.”

  Dazed, she had to swallow as she tipped her cheek into his palm. His words enflamed, weaving a seductive spell around her.

  He slid his arms around her waist and drew her to him. Her eyes widened at the press of his hard chest. “I want to touch you and have you touch me.”

  His tender words whispered through her, a warm, tickling breath against her cheek. His lips moved to the sensitive underside of her chin, trailing a scattering of small kisses down her throat. She tipped her head for him to gain better access, struggling to drink in his words.

  He kissed her, and she curved her arms around his broad shoulders and clasped him closer, kissing him back. Tentative at first, and then with more confidence when she heard his guttural groan. She let her tongue explore the warmth of his mouth, the fullness of his top lip, tasting him as she yearned to do. Brandy sweetened his mouth.

  His hands moved to the shoulders of her robe and slipped it down her arms. Light-headed, she swayed on her feet, his supportive arm no longer bracing her. He stepped back, and his eyes roved over her body, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. He missed nothing.

  Her dressing gown was a diaphanous cloud of green, its décolletage loosely draped over her breasts, and a slit strategically cut down one side to bare a tantalizing glimpse of naked leg. It was part of Emily’s trousseau, and Julia had discovered it on her bed when she had retired. Emily had always been perceptive.

  Daniel’s eyes flared, his lips parted, and a swath of red climbed his neck. He unbuttoned a few buttons on his shirt and slipped it over his head, letting it pool over her discarded robe. He yanked her to him.

  “Remind me to thank your sister.” His voice was hoarse.

  His mouth captured hers, and she moaned as his hand cupped her bottom.

  Her fingers moved over the taut muscles of his back, feeling the warmth of his burning skin, hearing his sharp indrawn breath as her fingers danced over him, careful to avoid the bandage circling his waist.

  His arm slid under her legs, and he swung her off her feet. Startled, her heart pounded as he carried her to the bed. He tumbled backward, still clutching her, and she cried out as they landed with a bouncing thump. She struggled to lift herself, but his arm around her waist rolled her so she lay beneath him.

  “Daniel—” she gasped.

  “Say yes, Julia.”

  What was the question? The shock of his hand, bold upon her breast, had her thoughts scrambled. Her eyes closed and she sighed. Good lord.

  “Say yes, Julia.”

  She opened her eyes to see Daniel looming above her, his eyes dark and passion-glazed, imploring her. She slid her arms around his neck, lifting her head up to meet his lips. “Yes. Yes to everything.”

  His smile was slow and wicked and wrapped around her heart as he leaned down to kiss her, his tongue gliding over her lips. “I promise to take care of you, to go gently. To ensure you enjoy it. Wait here.” He sat up and slowly shed his trousers.

  She sat up, too, fascinated. Her eyes widened and she swallowed at the sight of his erection. Her lips parted, and her heart stuttered. “Perhaps . . . perhaps we should slow down,” she managed, after she cleared her throat.

  He laughed and gave her a gentle push back onto the bed, following her down. “You are so right. Slow is better.” He breathed her in, burying his face in the valley between her breasts as he eased her gown from her body.

  His mouth closed over her nipple, teasing it into response.

  “Better than treacle tart,” he murmured against the sensitive skin, his lips moving to the underside of her breast. His hands dug into the soft flesh of her waist, holding her still as she squirmed.

  “Daniel.” His name was a mere whisper on her lips. He was firm against her, and his arousal emboldened her. Her hand slid between them and closed over his warm shaft.

  He sucked in a breath, his breathing ragged. She opened her eyes and watched his pupils dilate, the green of them dark and slumberous.

  Eventually, he grasped her hand and pressed it to his chest, kissing her. “That,” he kissed her again, “is not helping to,” another kiss, “slow things down.”

  She smiled against his lips. “Perhaps it’s time to move a little faster.”

  His laughter was low and almost pained. “I do adore that you are a brave woman. My fearless warrior.”

  She gasped as his hand moved lower to slip between her legs, his lips curving against hers. She knew she was moist, and she flushed, though she was unashamed. Her passion stunned her, for she wanted him. Now.

  He moved his hand beneath her knee, bending it. “It will take a few minutes for your body to become accustomed to me, Julia.”

  He shifted and slowly eased into her entrance, pausing at her sharp intake of breath. “Are you all right?”

  Her eyes tightly closed, she bit her lip against the unfamiliar pressure inside her, opening her to him. It felt hot and tight, and so deliciously erotic. She nodded jerkily. He cupped her cheek, lifting her face to his, bathing her face in sweet kisses. He pressed them to her closed lids, her nose, her cheeks, then claimed her mouth as his hips lifted and he began to gently move.

  His movements were slow, setting his pace by her response. Seeking something more, something elusive, she arched her hips against his, gasping as he increased his rhythm. A sheen of sweat rose on their skin.

  “Still all right?” he gasped, sounding as if the question pained him.

  “Battering. Battering is good.”

  He sputtered out a half laugh, half groan, and thrust deeply into her, fully embedding himself.

  She dug her fingers into his back, holding his body to hers as her desire and the sting of pain had her crying out. He clutched her close and kissed her deeply, his tongue darting in as he thrust his hips against hers.

  Good lord, she was whimpering, and the sounds appeared to inflame him further. It was like riding a tumultuous wave of desire. Over and over. Her passion overwhelmed her, sensations warring. And then the wave curled, peaked, and the warm tide of her release flooded her. She cried out Daniel’s name and clutched him tighter.

  Her cheek pressed to his chest, she listened to the pounding beat of his heart. He moaned low and deep, his movements now faster and less graceful. He gave a few more deep thrusts, and her name exploded from his lips, his climax pouring from him.

  He collapsed on top of her, his cheek against her breast, their bodies sweat-slicked and spent. It was wonderfully delicious, decadent . . . She inhaled and realized she could not draw air into her lungs. She pinched his side. “You are heavy. Slide over.”

  He grunted, his lips curving against her breast. “My forthright fiancée.” He shifted
to her side, and gathered her into his arms. Her back was to his chest, and he cradled her close.

  “I have a question,” she said softly, her voice sleep-slurred.

  “Of course you do.”

  “How soon can we do that again?”

  “You might be sore. But not too long.” He leaned over her to meet her eyes, a smile warming his.

  “Good.” She closed her eyes and snuggled against him, pressed to his heart, right where she wished to be. “I have another question.”

  Love me. Say you love me, she silently implored.

  “What is it?” His hand was playing with her hair, and she had to summon up her last vestige of energy to speak, tamping down the fervent cry of her heart. “Does Lakeview Manor have a nursery?”

  His hand stilled and she felt the pounding of his heart. It took him a while to respond and he sounded as if he had to clear his throat to do so. “I believe we can make room for one.”

  “See that you do.”

  She smiled at his soft laugh, closing her eyes as he held her close. She had always yearned for something more, and Daniel had given it to her. She never could have fathomed there were such blissful advantages to being a ruined woman. Had she known, she might have become one much sooner.

  After all, it had brought Daniel to her.

  Now she just needed him to tell her that he loved her back.

  That he could not live without her.

  She was planning on it.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  THEY had been in Bedfordshire for over a week when the news of Julia’s broken engagement became public. As bets were settled at White’s, Daniel and Julia remained buffered from the worst of the accounts, sequestered within the fortresslike walls of Taunton Court. The earl had insisted Daniel move into the guest wing, resolving to demonstrate his support of Julia and Daniel’s relationship in the hopes of stemming some of the tide of gossip. Brett had joined them as well, his arm still splinted and healing.

  Daniel was quite content to move into Taunton Court. It certainly made his evenings far more pleasurable. Or, at least some of them.

  Julia was circumspect in their illicit trysts. He often had to peel back her prim-and-proper layers in order to uncover his daring and improper Julia. He had no complaints, other than being desperate to solve this damnable mystery so he could get married and toss out the last of Julia’s reservations as well as his own. He had feared proposing to her, but he feared letting her go more.

  However, a trip to the parish church would have to wait. He had yet to obtain a special license, and Taunton advised waiting until the furor of Julia’s broken betrothal died down before stirring up more excitement with the announcement of their engagement. Underlying all of this was Daniel’s fear of wedding Julia one day, only to widow her the next, proving Taunton’s words prophetic.

  Edmund was a dark shadow haunting him. Daniel found himself starting at sharp sounds and restless at night. Once he had awoken struggling to breathe, gripped in the nightmare of the fire and his near suffocation. Julia’s soothing words had brought him back. She anchored him. He had been a foundering ship without a homeport until Julia.

  Edmund be damned.

  In addition to waiting out the gossip, they hoped for news from London as to the whereabouts of Charlie Shaw. In the interim, Daniel rarely left Taunton Court, with the exception of visiting Lakeview Manor where the grounds had been cleared and construction on the frame of the new house begun. There he had found Mabry toiling alongside other of Edmund’s tenants, all grateful for the additional work this project provided. Parishioners had begun the process of delivering baskets to address the tenants’ pressing needs for food. Mabry had also promised to alert Daniel should he hear word of Edmund’s return.

  Getting the men to work, the families fed, and forging these trusting relationships was a start in alleviating the tenants’ suffering. Until Daniel resolved matters with Edmund, he could do no more for these men or the families who so desperately needed his assistance. It gave him added incentive to achieve his goal.

  Daniel returned to Lakeview Manor with Brett, riding over that morning to answer questions from the foreman in charge of the construction. To provide the needed work as well as to expedite the project, Daniel had increased the number of men he employed. He had also added a nursery to the plans.

  “It looks like it is progressing smoothly.”

  Brett’s voice cut through Daniel’s thoughts, and he glanced up to see the framed structure of Lakeview Manor rising before him. The wood was mostly oak, Lakeview Manor having maintained a small forest of the trees. His absence had saved the wood during a period when so much of the county’s timber had been sold off for shipbuilding.

  The framing would be fronted with bricks to provide protection against fire. The skeletal frame was sparse. He did not mind. He was quite content with his present lodgings, particularly during the evening hours. Perhaps he shouldn’t have doubled the work force.

  “It is a good location.” Brett walked over, his gaze drifting over the grounds.

  He followed Brett’s gaze. The fall colors had darkened into the deeper browns, umbers, and burgundies that heralded November. They carpeted more of the forest floor than the trees.

  “It’s good that you are rebuilding this, Daniel. I know how much it meant to you. You shouldn’t have let Edmund take this away from you.”

  Brett’s right arm was in a sling, but like Daniel’s own, his bruises were fading. Daniel thanked God for it. Considering Brett had thought his return trip was idiocy, if his friend had died, Daniel had little doubt that Brett would have found a means to haunt him for the rest of his life. He nodded toward the house. “I thought this was all he could take. Besides my childhood,” he added under his breath.

  Brett did not respond, for there was nothing to say to that.

  Daniel breathed in the scent of pine and the fresh earth, letting it roll over him. They were boyhood smells, and they reminded him that Edmund hadn’t stolen everything.

  Together they strode down to the lake, a gentle breeze brushing over him. The background murmurs of the builders, an occasional bird cry, and the rhythmic pounding of a hammer drifted their way.

  Brett turned to him, his gaze assessing. “You are determined to see this through, aren’t you? I cannot talk you into coming home?”

  This is my home. He stiffened, stunned. The retort had been on the tip of his tongue, ready to explode from him like a fish leaping out of the lake. As if they had been forcibly submerged far too long, and had been desperate for release.

  “I am beginning to understand.” Brett held up his hand as if he had spoken out loud. “I do not like it, but I suspected this day might come.” His smile was rueful, his eyes sad. “America cannot compete with lofty titles, ancient castles, and heroic knights. Despite your history of witches burned at the stake, drawing and quarterings, kings beheading their wives, and—”

  “I understand,” he interceded before Brett launched into the age-old argument. “Didn’t Salem have witches as well?”

  “They were hanged,” Brett muttered. “One pressed to death with a stone.”

  “Ah, much more civil,” he nodded, trying to look solemn, but his lips twitched and he caught the amusement dancing in Brett’s eyes.

  “The scales were tipped when you found Julia. Competition over.” He shrugged.

  “Julia changes everything,” he agreed. “When I left, I had no intention of ever returning. I think I needed time to heal, from the fire, from my childhood. The problem was that I left a part of me here. In this land. This ground. It means something to me. It’s my home, too.” His gaze swept over the grounds, and his voice lowered. “I lost something here, and not by choice. I need to rebuild it to be whole. Do you understand?”

  “I do.” Brett sighed.

  The silence that fell was companionable, as his friend finally understood. It gave Daniel an element of peace, something that had eluded him since his return.

 
“To be honest, you were getting tedious buried in your ledgers. Not to mention, it was becoming difficult to tear you away from your desk. I knew then that you were not really living, but burying yourself in work or perhaps biding your time.”

  Daniel looked at Brett with surprise.

  “I suppose that is another reason I wished to persuade you from this trip.” Brett said ruefully. “However, your absence means that Isabelle Hardy will finally look my way.”

  Daniel snorted.

  “She is the toast of Boston. Now that your lordship is out of reach, I have a chance.”

  “You are right. After all, it was just my title that was of interest to her.”

  “Of course. Why else would she look to you when I am around?” Brett dismissed the idea as ludicrous.

  “No idea,” he agreed wryly. “Cannot think of a thing.”

  “However, there are lovely sights here as well.” He eyed Daniel askance. “I am good with sisters, you know. Have three of them myself.”

  He shook his head. “I trust Emily to take care of herself.” He nodded to Brett’s right arm in the sling. “When do you intend to tell her you are left-handed? She will not be pleased to hear you have cajoled her into drafting your correspondence when you are perfectly capable of doing it yourself.”

  Brett grinned. “It was the only way I could get her near me.”

  Daniel gave him a level look. “Tread softly there. It is my neck that would be on the block if you hurt her again.”

  “Again?” Brett said, his amusement fading.

  “Her fiancé died in India, and she’s still raw, so I beg you, do not push her, Brett. She had a bad time of it after his death.”

  Brett frowned. “She is a wisp of a thing, like one of those delicate English roses. But she has thorns, as she has pricked me a time or two. Cannot understand it. Women love me. I should know, my sisters tell—”

  “Spare me your sisters.” Daniel held up his hands.

  He would miss Brett when he returned to Boston. Perhaps he shouldn’t be cautioning him against Emily. Brett’s poetic comment on English roses was not like his friend. It was worth considering.